


The Rise of Eli(ade)

by Alley_Walk (AlleyWalk_writes), Tod der Fata Morgana (AlleyWalk_writes)



Series: ghosts of the past [2]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Akuma lore, Character Study, Eliade uses she/her and he/him pronouns, F/M, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 22:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19238782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Alley_Walk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Tod%20der%20Fata%20Morgana
Summary: Eliade becomes an Akuma at the tender age of twenty-four. Or, rather, she should say, his soul does. Her body, however, is at a ripe twenty-seven–so much time it took his sister, to mourn and grieve and then decide she couldn't live without him? Pitiful.Eliade becomes an Akuma a bit differently this time around.It changes more than anyone might think.





	The Rise of Eli(ade)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> This is a new story of mine, which, unlike the others, isn't planned to be a long fic. (So hopefully it'll actually get finished).
> 
> The main focus is on Eliade, who, again, is a morally ambiguous character, so, lotsa trigger warnings for this first chappie. (Though there will be some Krory POVs).
> 
> TW: (literal) frequent deadnaming/use of painful name for self, very, very slighty implied sex scene, (nothing shown), murder, violence, cannibalism, (Akuma-wise), morally ambigous character, unhealthy mental health themes, hate of men.
> 
> If you can get through all that, please enjoy!

Eliade becomes an Akuma at the tender age of twenty-four. Or, rather, she should say, his soul does. Her body, however, is at a ripe twenty-seven–so much time it took his sister, to mourn and grieve and  _ then _ decide she couldn't live without him? Pitiful.

But despite this, Eliade lives on. He murders, and he kills, discarding his old name as useless and taking up her sister's as her own. If she was going to live in this body, it was better to take use of it's full advantages.

He knew no other way anymore.

Except one day, Eliade was picked up by a man, while wearing men's clothing, his breasts bound flat to his chest.

It started with the man pushing him towards the bed–

And it ended with Eliade's fist punching a hole through his stomach, the man choking on his own blood while his sick twisted words rang in Eliade's ears. 

She ate his body and leveled the whole establishment.

Humans really were such disgusting creatures.

 

* * *

 

Thunder rumbles overhead as the sky rains down upon her. Eliade’s Dark Matter races through her veins as she flies through the storm, every crash of thunder making her core fill with energy. She was the Queen of the skies, one of the few Storm Type Akuma worth mentioning. There were all sorts of Types, from the forests to the streams, though they of course could only haunt their element while not masquerading as humans. Though, considering humans aged while Akuma did not, that’s probably where all the feral Akuma came from.

Keen eyes spotting suitable prey down below, Eliade snaps her wings into a dive and brings her insectoid legs forward to grasp at the writhing Akuma beneath her. Its inky blackness reaches oily tendrils to try to swallow her up into its darkness. But it is  _ weak _ , a mere Stormcrow, and Eliade is strong, a Stormwraith, a Queen of the skies. 

She throws her head back and screeches towards the heavens, and they answer. A great rumble of thunder shakes the very air around them, and then lightning crackles, striking the Stormcrow and making Eliade’s core buzz with energy. The Stormcrow shrieks, and before it can recover, Eliade clamps down on it with her many legs. She strikes like the serpent she is, sharp teeth plunging through its chest and clamping around a rough circular object that she bites down on with glee, chewing and swallowing. The Stormcrow falls out of the sky, lifeless.

Eliade snorts derisively and continues her hunt.

 

* * *

 

Eliade looks around at the nervous partygoers with a deep suspicion. While they’re dressed to impress–as Eliade himself is, considering that this  _ is _ the mansion of Count Arystar Krory himself–their eyes dart around warily, as if expecting an unwanted attack. Eliade sniffs derisively. Whatever they’re afraid of can’t possibly hurt  _ him. Well,  _ Eliade thinks,  _ if the rumors are true, there’s bound to be an Exorcist in this very castle. Not that it matters. Either way, one of us will be the victor in the end. _

Eliade himself is dressed in clothes that are mostly masculine, with hints of femininity in the ruffles on the pants and the slight blouse-like nature of the front. His breasts are bound and his hair is tucked into a hat on his head, though a few strands have escaped, much to his annoyance. 

Eliade suddenly comes to alertness as he detects that  _ hateful _ Innocence nearby. Oh, how he loathes it. He feels it approaching him, and inwardly, he bristles. Outwardly, he’s calm as a still pool of water. His eyes finally land on the Exorcist approaching him amongst the crowd, and find him alarmingly close. The man is tall, over six feet, with short black hair with a fringe of white in front of his face, wearing a black tailcoat and pants with an eggplant purple undershirt and an eye-searing yellow tie. Just looking at this fashion disaster makes Eliade want to kill him on sight. Though that might just be the killing instincts talking.

The Exorcist walks up to her as if it were completely natural, a friendly, if hesitant smile on his face. When he opens his mouth, Eliade notices his fangs. “H-hello! I haven’t noticed you around before. A-are you new, by any chance?”

One of his cufflinks catches the light from a chandelier overhead, and Eliade’s eyes dart to read the ingraving:  _ AKIII.  _ Her eyes widen before she gets control of her emotions and smirks at him. “Perhaps,” she says with a sly smile, reaching out a hand, testing the waters as it may be. “Eliade Dubois.”

The Exorcist stares at her for a second before his expression becomes… hopeful? (??) The man smiles nervously and reaches down to shake his hand, “Arystar Krory. Arystar Krory the third! B-but you can just call my Krory if you like!” The Exorcist says with a beaming smile.

Eliade stares, baffled. It was almost as if the Exorcist was… dare she say, befriending her. 

Could he not know he was an Exorcist?

Well then… 

The future Exorcist had gotten uncomfortable in Eliade’s silence, and was tapping his fingers together while looking down at the ground morosely. “Um. Nevermind. I’ll just… go.” The future Exorcist says, turning away from him with his shoulders slumped.

This was it.

He could just let him walk away, and nothing would ever come of it.

“Arystar!” Eliade calls, cursing and berating herself as she does so. 

_ …Arystar _ turns, clearly surprised. New hope blooms in his eyes as he asks, “yes?”

Eliade’s mouth quirks up. “Come on. We need to fix that fashion disaster you call a suit.”

Arystar looks bemused. “If you say so, Eliade.”

While he had been Eliade’s brother when they had both been alive, that did not mean he had been any less interested in fashion as Eliade herself used to be. It had fascinated him, all of the bright colors, the feel of the fabric underneath his fingertips. The feeling of belonging, of being  _ himself _ , with the sensation of a skirt around his hips. He had even taken up an apprenticeship under a seamstress against his family’s wishes, just so he could make himself whatever type of clothes he had wanted without having to barter for them in the marketplace or in mercantiles. It had been what had gotten him killed, in the end. And she had learned better.

It was better to be seen as male than to be seen as  _ weak. _

So it was that Eliade had outfitted Arystar in a blood red tailcoat with a deep gold undershirt and black tie. Arystar was looking at her with big eyes that reminded her of a doe. Eliade lifts an imperious eyebrow. “What?”

Arystar blinks, and then starts waving his hands through the air like an idiot. “Er, nothing!” He says nervously. “I-I was just kinda wondering… are you male or female?”

Eliade’s eyes flashed dangerously. Of course that would be the question on any man's mind.

"N-nevermind! I-it doesn’t matter!" Arystar says, looking down while twiddling with his thumbs.

Pitiful. Still, better than what most men would do. "If you like, you may think of me as male." Eliade says, half an acception, half an apology.

Arystar looks up and beams at her. "Alright, that’s fine with me."


End file.
